It's Tuesday
by Megan Lo Saurus
Summary: Arthur is a writer and Francis owns the café he frequents. For the two of them, Tuesdays are special. FrUK AU full of fluff.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - Yep, this is one of the sappier things I have written. Even including that Spamano fic which was just fluff with a side helping of sweetness.

Oh, in case anyone cared, _La Mouette_ means The Seagull. Named after the pirate ship in Daphne du Maurier's _Frenchman's Creek_. Great book. Read it now :)

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><p>Arthur went to the café <em>La Mouette <em>every day.

Mondays Arthur never had enough time for more than a quick chat and a cup of tea. But Wednesdays and Thursdays he'd spend as long as he wanted at his table by the window, working on his next novel or chatting to Francis - usually both. Fridays Francis would try out a recipe for a new cake, and he'd invariably end up letting Arthur have the first taste.

On the weekends Francis might be too busy to stop and chat, but whenever he could he'd catch Arthur's eye and smile, and Arthur's heart would give a little skip and it would be enough.

But it was Tuesdays that he looked forward to the most. Every Tuesday, Francis would close the café for an extra hour over lunch, and he and Arthur would leave the world behind and do whatever they wanted.

Sometimes when the weather was good, they'd take sandwiches and champagne and picnic by the river. Sometimes they did so when it wasn't, because soggy sandwiches and being soaked to the skin didn't really bother Arthur when he was with Francis. Sometimes they chatted, about whatever came to mind; sometimes they sat together in silence, Arthur scribbling and Francis sketching.

Once, they'd hitchhiked to the next village and had to walk back through miles of countryside. _La Mouette _stayed shut that afternoon. The week after that, Francis had taught Arthur how to waltz in the rain, and Arthur had realised with terrible certainty that he was in love with him.

Arthur frowned and started walking more briskly. He wasn't going to think about that. And he definitely wasn't going to think about Sunday, when he'd had to flee the café because Elizabeta, Francis' part-time helper, had somehow worked out about Arthur's feelings for her boss and was gleefully threatening to tell him.

He'd only barely managed to silence her, by explaining in great detail why exactly it was impossible for Francis and Arthur to ever go out, the most important reason being that the Frenchman was as flippant about his lovers as he was constant about his friendships. Francis would go out with a different girl almost every week, whereas he'd been friends with Arthur for almost a year now.

Arthur reached the café and shook his head in an attempt to banish the thoughts. Ignoring the sign that said 'Closed', Arthur pushed open the door and entered _La Mouette_. Francis was hanging his apron on a hook behind the counter, and hadn't seen him yet.

"It's Tuesday," Arthur said unnecessarily.

"_Je t'aime," _Francis said, and Arthur froze.

"It means, I love you." He stepped round the counter and gently touched Arthur's cheek, bringing their faces impossibly close. _"Je t'aime," _he said again, and Arthur could feel the breath of the words on his lips.

And then Francis closed that tiny distance and kissed him, sweet. Arthur could taste the faint traces of sugar and sweet whipped cream on his lips. He hummed, dizzy with pleasure, and Francis' tongue gently parted his lips.

Arthur was so close to losing himself in Francis when Sunday and Elizabeta suddenly sprang to mind. _She must have told him! _That was why Francis was doing this now; he'd dumped his latest girlfriend and a new one hadn't come along yet. Elizabeta had told him about Arthur and he must have decided to give it a go.

_But what did that matter? _A tiny part of him said. _You get what you want, he gets what he wants. It's a win win!_

Except Arthur would be the one to come out of it with a broken heart. He managed to force himself to shove Francis away and stared at him with undisguised hatred. To think he'd thought that Francis valued his friendship. He was nothing more to Francis than the latest in a long line of momentary flings.

Turning, Arthur fled the café.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - The last chapter really was supposed to be fluff. I wrote it intending fluff, but then I reckon it turned kinda flangsty towards the middle/end. And then the reviewers asked for fluff, and I am a slave to reviewers.

Which reminds me, thank you to anonymous reviewers Lazy and Dark Angel - your wish is my command! Here is the fluffy part 2.

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><p>When Arthur got home he drank himself into oblivion. It didn't help. By the end, he'd only succeeded in making himself even more miserable, and with a hellish hangover to look forward to.<p>

The next morning Arthur was roughly jerked back to consciousness by the sound of someone simultaneously ringing the doorbell, pounding on the door, and loudly yelling his name.

Yanking the duvet up over his head, Arthur tried to fall back asleep, but whoever it was, they were persistent. Groaning, he padded downstairs, rubbing his eyes and hoping that whoever it was would understand the words _bugger off_.

He opened the door just enough to see Elizabeta, and she did _not_ look happy. This was the first time Arthur had seen her angry but judging from the saucepan, it wasn't something he would want to see again. 'What do you want?' He snarled. He didn't move to let her in.

Elizabeta pursed her lips angrily. "Why did I visit the café this morning and see Francis with his head in his hands and a heartbroken expression?"

Arthur felt a surge of hope that he quickly quelled. "I don't know. Maybe his latest conquest didn't work out as well as he'd hoped? Maybe whoever he'd been pursuing felt that no relationship was better than a protracted and meaningless fling."

Elizabeta's face softened, and she lowered her saucepan. "Oh, Arthur, you're so _clueless_ when it comes to this sort of thing! If Francis just thought of you as his latest toy, don't you think he would have asked you out when he first met you, rather than wasting all this time getting to know you? Besides, you don't know how he was before you started visiting."

"How do you mean?" Arthur said, curious despite himself.

"He's always been a flirt, but the first time he started actively looking for a relationship was when you came into his life. He's been using these relationships as a distraction, because he was too much of a coward to confess to you!"

Arthur laughed dully. "You're reading too much into this, Liza. He probably just decided to try it on a whim because you told him that I loved him. Which I said in strictest confidence, by the way!"

Inexplicably, Elizabeta's face broke out into a grin, and she turned to her right to proclaim, "I told you so!"

Cold fingers wrapped around his heart and squeezed._ Please God…_ Slowly, he let the door swing open and stepped out into the porch.

Francis was standing next to Elizabeta. He was positioned just far enough to be invisible to someone looking from the doorway, but close enough to hear _everything_ Arthur had said.

Arthur turned and fled. He tried to slam the door shut, but Francis put his foot in the way and next thing he knew Francis had slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind him. He looked straight at Arthur, who suddenly realised exactly how a rabbit caught in the headlights would feel.

"Shit. You heard everything?"

Francis nodded wordlessly.

"Shit," Arthur repeated. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Elizabeta was telling the truth," Francis said softly, taking Arthur's hand and staring at their interwoven fingers, wonder clear in his eyes. His gaze flickered back up to meet Arthur's, and his expression was earnest.

Arthur didn't move. His heart was in his mouth. "About what?"

"About everything. From the first time I first talked to you, you've destroyed me. And the worst part is, you've done it so tenderly that even as I'm falling I've never been happier."

Arthur's heart skipped in happiness. He managed to keep his voice calm as he said, "That's the sappiest thing I've ever heard."

Francis laughed. "Isn't it just?"

He tugged Arthur close and kissed him sweet.

"Idiot," Arthur said fondly. Then, quietly – "I love you too."

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><p><em>Three Years Later<em>

There was the quiet scrape of a chair moving across the floor, and Arthur felt rather than saw the owner of the café _La Mouette_ sit down opposite him.

"It's Tuesday."

Gently setting down his mug, Arthur scowled at Francis over the top of his newspaper. "So?"

Francis grinned and propped his head up on his hands. _"Je t'aime."_

Arthur hurriedly hid his face in his paper and pretended he wasn't blushing. "Anything else?"

Francis smiled softly and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the tip of Arthur's nose. "That's it, _mon cher."_

"Idiot," Arthur said.

The bell rang as a customer entered, and Francis wandered back to the counter.

Arthur waited until he was sure Francis was out of earshot before he replied, mumbling quietly – "Love you too."

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><p>(I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's so disgustingly <em>cheesy!<em> I wrote this quite quickly - as soon as I'd picked up the reviews, which was about half an hour ago.)

If you liked it, please do review! Would make my day :)


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